|Drarry Smut| (story 2)

Dont Be Afraid

Credit to Rini2021 on AO3
2641 words

'Fight back you coward! Fight Back!'

'I killed Sirius Black!'

'If we die for them, Harry, I'm gonna kill you!'

'I have to kill you! Or he's gonna kill me!'

'Dobby is a free elf!'

'Help will be given at Hogwarts to those who deserve it.'

'Harry Potter is Dead!'

'Come on, Tom, let's finish this like we started it...'

Harry bolted up in his bed, drenched in sweat, and panting for breath. As he looked around the familiar dorm, he sighed, and flopped back onto his bed. The nightmares were getting worse by each passing day, and he didn't know how to deal with them. Every night he dreamt of the war, and sometimes he'd catch himself during the day reliving the memories. He thought returning to Hogwarts for his eighth year would help him adjust, but it wasn't. If anything, it was making him worse. He kept being reminded of horrid events by being in the castle; he was being tortured by his own thoughts.

With that in mind, he put on his glasses, changed into jeans and a t-shirt, put on some shoes, and left the dorm silently. The emerald eyed boy needed to walk around the cool, autumn kissed corridors to clear his head. He didn't care if teachers or prefects caught him (not that they'd care), all he cared about was having a peaceful state of mind so he could sleep.

He tried to think about anything that he would have thought of before in school, but they didn't have as much appeal to him anymore. Things like a new product for 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' brought back the image of Fred's lifeless body, or how much he had at Gringotts made him think of Griphook's betrayal when he broke in with Ron and Hermione. Sometimes even sending an owl to someone reminded him of how Hedwig sacrificed herself to save him.

After wandering for a while, he decided to sit for a bit to hopefully clear his head. He hopped around a corner, and slid down against the wall to the floor, leaning his head against the cold brick. He closed his eyes, but all he could see were the people he'd lost at the hands of Voldemort: Remus, Tonks, Fred, Sirius, Cedric, Lavender, Collin, Dumbledore, Snape, Dobby, and above all... his parents. The image of them and the rest of the Potter's in the Mirror of Erised caused tears to fall from the boy's eyes. His breath started to hitch as he let out quiet sobs; he didn't want to wake the castle. Every time he thought of the horrid years of war he endured, even for a second, his mind would spiral down a hole of pain and regret.

"Harry?"

Harry stopped sobbing, and opened his eyes to see Draco standing over him with a concerned look. They weren't enemies anymore, in fact they were even friends . The thing was, he had never seen Harry at his most vulnerable. Ron and Hermione had warned the Gryffindor that he needed to be careful around Draco, even if he was starting to be better toward people. Harry wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, and let out a sigh.

"Hi, Draco."

Without a word, the blond sat next to him, and leaned his back against the wall with a sympathetic look. He was wearing more casual clothing, that being a black, long sleeved shirt and sweat pants. Of course, his hair still looked well kept. Harry knew the boy had a habit of never leaving the Slytherin dorm without his hair being in check.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

Harry moved his gaze to the tiled floor under them. What the hell was he supposed to say? It wasn't like Draco would understand what he was experiencing. He decided to lie.

"I couldn't sleep."

"That's not what I meant." Draco said in an annoyed tone. "Why are you crying?"